"His was a public Bounty vast and grand,
""Twas not in him to work with viewless hand; "He rais'd the Room that towers above the Street, "A public Room where grateful Parties meet; "He first the Life-boat plann'd; to him the Place "Is deep in Debt-'twas he reviv'd the Race; "To every public Act this hearty Friend "Would give with freedom or with frankness lend; "His Money built the Jail, nor Prisoner yet "Sits at his Ease, but he must feel the Debt; "To these let Candour add his vast Display, "Around his Mansion all is grand and gay, "And this is Bounty with the name of Pay."
I grant the whole, nor from one Deed retract, But wish recorded too the private Act; All these were great, but still our Hearts approve Those simpler Tokens of the Christian Love; "Twould give me Joy some gracious Deed to meet, That has not call'd for Glory through the Street: Who felt for many, could not always shun, In some soft moment, to be kind to one; And yet they tell us, when Sir Denys died, That not a Widow in the Borough sigh'd; Great were his Gifts, his mighty Heart I own, But why describe what all the World has known? The rest is petty Pride, the useless art Of a vain Mind to hide a swelling Heart: Small was his private Room; Men found him there By a plain Table, on a paltry Chair;
A wretched Floor-cloth, and some Prints around, The easy purchase of a single Pound:
These humble Trifles and that Study small
Make a strong Contrast with the Servants' Hall;
There barely Comfort, here a proud Excess,
The pompous Seat of pamper'd Idleness,
Where the sleek Rogues with one consent declare,
They would not live upon his Honour's Fare;
He daily took but one half-hour to dine,
On one poor Dish and some three sips of Wine;
Then he'd abuse them for their sumptuous Feasts,
66 My Friends! you make yourselves like
"Beasts;
"One Dish suffices any Man to dine,
"But you are greedy as a herd of Swine;
"Learn to be temperate."-Had they dar'd t' obey,
He would have prais'd and turn'd them all away.
Friends met Sir Denys riding in his Ground,
And there the Meekness of his Spirit found:
For that grey Coat, not new for many a Year,
Hides all that would like decent Dress appear;
An old brown Poney 'twas his will to ride,
Who shuffled onward, and from side to side;
A five-pound purchase, but so fat and sleek,
His very Plenty made the Creature weak.
"Sir Denys Brand! and on so poor a Steed!"
'Poor! it may be such things I never heed:'
And who that Youth behind, of pleasant mien,
Equipp'd as one who wishes to be seen;
Upon a Horse, twice Victor for a Plate,
A noble Hunter, bought at dearest rate?—
Him the Lad fearing, yet resolv'd to guide,
He curbs his Spirit, while he strokes his Pride.
"A handsome Youth, Sir Denys; and a Horse
"Of finer figure never trod the Course,-
"Yours, without question?"-" Yes! I think a Groom 'Bought me the Beast; I cannot say the Sum:
'I ride him not, it is a foolish pride
'Men have in Cattle-but my People ride;
"The Boy is-hark ye, Sirrah! what's your Name?
Aye, Jacob, yes! I recollect-the same;
'As I bethink me now, a Tenant's Son'I think a Tenant-is your Father one?' There was an idle Boy who ran about, And found his Master's humble Spirit out; He would at awful distance snatch a look, Then run away and hide him in some nook; "For oh!" quoth he, " I dare not fix my sight "On him, his Grandeur puts me in a fright; "Oh! Mister Jacob, when you wait on him, "Do you not quake and tremble every limb?" The Steward soon had Orders- Summers, see 'That Sam be cloth'd, and let him wait on me.'
Sir Denys died, bequeathing all Affairs
In trust to Laughton's long-experienc'd Cares;
Before a Guardian, and Sir Denys dead,
All Rule and Power devolv'd upon his Head:
Numbers are call'd to govern, but in fact
Only the powerful and assuming act.
Laughton, too wise to be a dupe to Fame,
Car'd not a whit of what Descent he came,
Till he was rich; he then conceiv'd the thought
To fish for Pedigree, but never caught:
All his Desire, when he was young and poor,
Was to advance; he never car'd for more;
"Let me buy, sell, be Factor, take a Wife,
"Take any Road to get along in Life."
Was he a Miser then? a Robber? Foe
To those who trusted? a Deceiver?-No!
He was ambitious; all his Powers of Mind
Were to one end controll'd, improv'd, combin'd;
Wit, Learning, Judgment, were, by his account,
Steps for the Ladder he design'd to mount:
Such step was Money: Wealth was but his Slave,
For Power he gain'd it, and for Power he gave;
Full well the Borough knows that he'd the art
Of bringing Money to the surest Mart;
Friends too were Aids, they led to certain ends,
Increase of Power and Claim on other Friends.
A favourite step was Marriage: then he gain'd
Seat in our Hall, and o'er his Party reign'd;
Houses and Lands he bought, and long'd to buy,
But never drew the Springs of Purchase dry,
And thus at last they answer'd every Call,
The Failing found him ready for their Fall:
He walks along the Street, the Mart, the Quay,
And looks and mutters, " This belongs to me."
His Passions all partook the general bent,
Interest inform'd him when he should resent,
How long resist, and on what terms relent:
In points where he determin'd to succeed,
In vain might Reason or Compassion plead;
But, gain'd his point, he was the best of Men,
"Twas loss of Time to be vexatious then:
Hence he was mild to all Men whom he led,
Of all who dar'd resist, the Scourge and Dread.
Falsehood in him was not the useless Lie
Of boasting Pride or laughing Vanity;
It was the gainful, the persuading Art,
That made its way and won the doubting Heart,
Which argued, soften'd, humbled, and prevail'd;
Nor was it tried till ev'ry Truth had fail'd;
No Sage on Earth could more than he despise
Degrading, poor, unprofitable Lies.
Though fond of Gain, and griev'd by wanton Waste, To social Parties he had no distaste; With one presiding purpose in his view, He sometimes could descend to trifle too! Yet, in these moments, he had still the art To ope the Looks and close the guarded Heart; And, like the public Host, has sometimes made A grand Repast, for which the Guests have paid.
At length, with Power endued and wealthy grown,
Frailties and Passions, long suppress'd, were shown;
Then to provoke him was a dangerous thing,
His Pride would punish, and his Temper sting;
His powerful Hatred sought th' avenging hour,
And his proud Vengeance struck with all his Power,
Save when th' Offender took a prudent way
The rising Storm of Fury to allay:
This might he do, and so in safety sleep,
By largely casting to the angry Deep;
Or, better yet (its swelling Force t'assuage,)
By pouring Oil of Flattery on its rage.
And now, of all the Heart approv'd, possess'd,
Fear'd, favour'd, follow'd, dreaded and caress'd,
He gently yields to one mellifluous Joy,
The only Sweet that is not found to cloy,
Bland Adulation! other Pleasures pall
On the sick Taste, and transient are they all;
But this one Sweet has such enchanting power,
The more we take, the faster we devour;
Nauseous to those who must the dose apply,
And most disgusting to the Standers-by;
Yet in all Companies will Laughton feed,
Nor care how grossly Men perform the deed.
As gapes the Nursling, or, what comes more near, Some Friendly-Island Chief, for hourly Cheer;
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